Thinkest thou they will heed thy tender love, thine anguish?
will they have hearts for aught save for thy loveliness, sweet one?
Think, think of terrors like to this, and oh, still wilt thou refuse to fly ?" "But thy sister, the Lady Seaton, Nigel, doth she not stay, doth she not brave these perils ?" asked Agnes, shuddering at her lover's words, yet clinging to him still.

"If she escapes such evil, why, oh, why may not I ?" "She is Seaton's wife, sweet one, bound to him by the voice of heaven, by the holiest of ties; the noble knights who head our foes will protect her in all honorable keeping; but for thee, Agnes, even if the ills I dread be as naught, there is yet one I have dared not name, lest it should pain thee, yet one that is most probable as 'tis most fearful; thou canst not hide thy name, and as a daughter of Buchan, oh, will they not give thee to a father's keeping ?" "The murderer of my brother--my mother's jailer! Oh, Nigel, Nigel, to look on him were more than death!" she wildly exclaimed.

"Yet, yet once known as Agnes of Buchan, this will, this must be; but leave thee now, leave thee to a tyrant's doom, if indeed, indeed thou fallest in his hands--leave thee, when faithful love and woman's tenderness are more than ever needed--leave thee for a fear like this, no, no, I will not.
Nigel, I will rest with thee.

Speak not, answer not; give us one short moment, and then--oh, all the ills may be averted by one brief word--and I, oh, can I speak it ?" She paused in fearful agitation, and every limb shook as if she must have fallen; the blood rushed up to cheek, and brow, and neck, as, fixing her beautiful eyes on Nigel's face, she said, in a low yet thrilling voice, "Let the voice of heaven hallow the vows we have so often spoken, Nigel.

Give me a right, a sacred right to bear thy name, to be thine own, at the altar's foot, by the holy abbot's blessing.